


angel eyes

by aminami



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Denial, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, P5R Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25735003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aminami/pseuds/aminami
Summary: A part of Akira thinks he can still go back – and that same part of him knows that if he does, he’ll most likely end up forgetting. He’d just have to welcome this reality with open arms, going through the motions, meeting with his friends, finishing school, helping around Leblanc.Maybe then Akechi would forget as well. Maybe that’s all it takes to close their bubble once more. Maybe they’ll eventually stop feeling the cold blowing through the cracks, wrapping the fake reality around each other like a warm blanket.Takes place during the third semester.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 104





	angel eyes

When Akira wakes up one day after Maruki’s deadline, he’s surprised to see himself in his own bed in Leblanc. He checks the date just to be sure, but nothing seems out of ordinary. Morgana is nowhere to be found, most likely having left through the open window.

He sits up, suddenly feeling nauseous, and the world around him spins like a kaleidoscope. He lets his face rest in his hands, waiting for it to pass. Everything around him feels real enough, but there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that he can’t get rid of, even once nausea passes. He checks his phone again – he doesn’t have any unread messages, the MetaNav gone from his phone for good. The signal is there too, so it’s not like he’s still in the Metaverse.

But if nothing went wrong, why is he still in Leblanc? Shouldn’t he be in a detention facility by now?

He can feel his heart race, trying to recall everything that happened the previous night. He remembers their fight with Maruki well enough, there was no way for his reality to continue. And if his assumptions were correct, _he_ shouldn’t be here. Not only him, Akechi…

He feels sick again, but he forces himself to pick up his phone again to call the number. Akechi doesn’t answer.

_Meet me in Leblanc. I need to know you’re still alive._

He sends the text with shaking hands. He feels weak as if a part of him was torn out, and it’s nothing like he’s ever felt before – it’s worse than being in Metaverse for too long, more painful than his awakening. It’s as if he lost a part of himself, leaving him as an empty husk. Is this what it feels like to lose your Persona?

He calls his friends, one by one. They all seem happy, making plans to celebrate their victory. He asks about their own memories, but none of them contradict his own. So the infiltration was a success, and yet he’s still here. The reality does seem _real_ enough – the dead are buried, the perpetrators are punished, the heroes remain unrewarded. There’s no fake happiness, there’s no salvation. It’s just him sitting alone on the bed of the cold attic.

Maruki’s number is gone from his phone.

He feels sick again, but he forces himself to get out of bed and get dressed. There’s a hunch that he can’t shake and he’s finally able to address it. As if possessed by some invisible force, he suddenly starts going through his stuff like a madman, leaving his belongings scattered on the floor. He wasn’t wrong – Akechi’s glove is gone as well.

He stands there helpless and unmoving, looking at the disaster of his own making.

He decides to go downstairs.

Sojiro is there, acting the same as always. The TV is on but he can’t force himself to listen to the news, slowly drifting away into his own head, the noises of Leblanc weirdly far away – like a radio that won’t stay tuned. He blinks as Sojiro hands him his breakfast and he realizes he doesn’t feel hungry. The coffee and the curry taste the same they always did, but he can’t bring himself to enjoy them.

Sojiro doesn’t ask him if he’s okay even when he doesn’t finish his food.

“I’ll stick around today,” he says suddenly. “I’m waiting for someone and I don’t want to miss them.”

“Suit yourself,” Sojiro shrugs. “But you might as well stay upstairs, I’ll call you when someone comes to visit you.”

Akira gently refuses, unable to bring himself to look at the mess he left at the attic. Sojiro doesn’t ask him to help out, so he sits on the stool for what feels like hours. No one speaks to him, no one even looks. He wonders if this what it feels like to be a ghost.

He feels strangely light, despite being sick in the morning. His spine should be hurting after spending so much time on the uncomfortable stool, but he feels detached from his own body. His thoughts come back to Maruki – is it possible that they failed? Did destroying his palace bring some consequences that they couldn’t have predicted?

Maruki wasn’t a twisted criminal, and he was a Persona user – everything about his palace was different, so it was only logical to assume that things could have gone wrong.

Was it possible that the reality didn’t return to normal? Or maybe he was experiencing some weird Metaverse hangover since the scale of what they had to do was so big? Maybe Maruki’s reality couldn’t just vanish without a trace.

He forces himself to go to the bathroom. He doesn’t actually need to go, his body somehow incapable of feeling anything, including the most basic needs. Sojiro doesn’t lift his head as he passes him. He closes the door, washing his face for the first time that day. He leans over, placing his hands on the sink as he looks back into his own reflection in the mirror.

There’s something strange about his eyes, some weird glimmer that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s gone before he manages to take a better look at it. He sways dangerously, feeling a sudden headache split his head open – for a moment he sees nothing but white light. But just like his nausea, it’s over soon, leaving him shaken and confused.

He hears the doorbell chime on the other side of the door. He wants nothing but to run out of the bathroom, but his body is so weak, he barely manages to get the door to open. Once he’s out, he notices Sojiro’s gone, and Leblanc is completely deserted.

It’s just him and Akechi now.

“Can I get some coffee?” He asks calmly, and Akira nods, already approaching the siphon and putting on his apron. He no longer feels weak, his body slowly returning to normal. He doesn’t feel his earlier anxiety either, knowing that whatever’s about to happen now, they have all the time in the world to talk about it. Akechi watches him work with a bored expression on his face. He doesn’t take his coat off as he sits down on the stool, and his eyes never leave Akira. It makes him weirdly uncomfortable.

“I feel weird when you’re watching me so intently,” Akira says finally.

Akechi doesn’t apologize, but he seems to think it’s necessary to explain himself anyway. “I thought there was something in your eye just now.”

“Something in my eye? I didn’t feel anything.”

“Most likely just a trick of the light then,” Akechi states, pulling out his phone. “Looking at the time, we might be approaching the golden hour.”

“The golden hour?”

“That time before sunset. Or shortly after sunrise.”

How much time has passed since he got up this morning? How long has he been waiting for Akechi? He’s not able to tell and he left his phone upstairs. He could just ask Akechi, but he feels like it doesn’t matter.

“You can’t see the sunset from here,” he retorts weakly. He doesn’t think it was sunny when he got up either.

“We’ll probably miss it,” Akechi agrees. “What about me? Do you think my eyes seem different?”

Akira forces himself to look at Akechi. For the short moment when their eyes meet, everything about the world stops. Not metaphorically, the world actually does stop – he can hear the noises of the TV die off, the smell of coffee vanishes from the air, he’s pretty sure his own heart stops pumping blood. There’s the same glimmer in Akechi’s eyes that he saw in his own reflection, and he wonders if his eyes always were more golden than brown.

“People always describe my eyes as either brown or red,” Akechi speaks up, breaking whatever spell they were under. Everything seems too loud then, so Akira turns the TV off with the remote. It’s not like anyone was here to watch it anyway. “But I can’t really tell myself. Now that I think about it, I can’t say I’ve ever really looked into your eyes either. At least I don’t remember the color now.”

“My eyes are normal,” Akira defends, handing Akechi his coffee. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Akechi takes a sip, not even bothering to wait. He doesn’t wince, he just finishes the whole thing in one go. Akira tries to remember if Sojiro’s coffee was just as cold this morning, but his memory goes blank. He wonders what happened to Sojiro anyway.

“How was it?” He asks, not asking if Akechi wants a refill, already starting to clean up.

“Maybe just a little bland,” Akechi more scowls than smiles. “Everything about this world is.”

For some reason, it’s still the most normal conversation he’s had today so far. It feels real unlike everything else, but he can tell his own mind is already getting used to the detachment he’s been experiencing since this morning.

“I need you to fight it, Joker.” Akechi seems to be reading his mind. “Just a little longer.”

Akira takes off his apron and sits down next to Akechi. He notices Akechi’s wearing his gloves, and a part of him wants to ask about the one missing from his room upstairs, but he doubts he’d get a conclusive answer. There were more important matters at hand.

“Did we fail?” He asks since Akechi might be the only person in this world willing to hear the question.

Akechi leans on his elbow, his fingers tapping some unknown rhythm on his cheek. “No, I think we’ve succeeded. We defeated Maruki and the Metaverse is gone. Everything’s back to normal.”

“Then why does it feel like this?”

“Because you’re very stubborn.”

It seems like a stupid answer. His heart makes a weak attempt at rebelling inside his chest, but it only gives him another headache. He looks at the counter and notices that one of Akechi’s hands is very close to his own. He can feel the heat radiating from it, and he wants to move his own hand just a little closer – it’s the only strong desire he’s had today so far.

Akechi doesn’t touch him. Akira aches to be touched.

“I used to keep myself awake till the early hours of the morning,” Akechi changes the subject. “I don’t know why. No matter how tired I was, I could never get my mind to shut off. I’d just run myself into exhaustion.”

“Is this what’s happening to me?”

“Both of us,” Akechi looks torn. “I’m as real as you are, or as unreal as you are. At least I think so."

“What are we then, Akechi?”

“Cognitions,” Akechi looks away, unable to look Akira in the eyes as he answers the question. “That’s my guess anyway.”

Akira doesn’t fight him. He knows it to be true the moment the words are spoken aloud. They’re ghosts in an abandoned reality ready to collapse any minute.

“So that means our true selves…”

“We are our true selves,” Akechi chuckles bitterly. “Maybe even more real than the guys outside of this place.”

“What is this place anyway?”

“I know as much as you do,” Akechi shrugs. “I can already guess based on my own hunch, and some observations I made on my way here. What Maruki created was a violent act against nature, against fate itself. He all but ripped out a hole within the reality, placing all of us there. I don’t think he fully realized that putting the two of us in a contained space like this could have lasting consequences. He probably hoped we’d never want to escape the safety bubble.”

“As Persona users and Tricksters, we’re human will incarnate. Our aim is to rebel. When Maruki’s reality was destroyed, our wills left a print strong enough to keep this place from really collapsing. So for now… We’re stuck, unable to move on.”

“But you said we’re just cognitions,” Akira points out.

“You can see it in my eyes, can’t you?” Akechi leans closer. “Same as I can see it in yours. Just because this version of reality isn’t _real_ , doesn’t mean that we’re not. We’re the last remaining souls in this world – everything you’ve seen, everyone you talked to, it’s just your stubborn mind refusing to accept that you’re just a shadow. You asked me if you’re your true self, and yes, in a way you are. You’re Joker’s willpower. You’re his desires. You’re his rebellion. You might just be closer to a Persona than an actual cognition.”

“Why are you so calm?” Akira asks. “Aren’t you angry? And how do I even know you’re real?”

Akechi grabs his hand. It’s not tender, it’s not supposed to make him feel better. It’s simply supposed to make him feel alive. It’s warm, it’s slightly sweaty, it’s definitely real – it’s an addicting feeling that makes it hard to let go.

“How much time do we have left?” Akira laces his fingers with Akechi’s. “Till another golden hour?”

“You said it now, so you made it real,” Akechi looks at their joined hands like they’re an interesting case study. “Time flows differently than it would under normal circumstances. Right now it’s our own minds that serve as a power plant, but it won’t be long until we’ll have to go back. Who knows how much time really passed for our other selves? I feel like this place will last as long as we want to linger.”

He gets up, pulling Akira up to his feet with him. He lets himself be dragged outside, realizing he’s still not wearing his coat, but it doesn’t bother him. Even though it’s still February, he doesn’t feel cold. The snow is falling from the sky as if someone cut it open, but it seems like the snowflakes are unable to touch their bodies. He starts understanding the rules of his fresh confinement – his mind chooses not to feel cold, so he doesn’t.

He lets himself be led by Akechi, the warmth of his hand guiding him towards some purpose – it’s like following a single light while being lost in complete darkness.

“I want to see how far this world stretches,” Akechi says. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“Do you have a driver’s license?”

“Does it matter if I don’t?”

“No,” Akira says quietly. “I guess it really doesn’t. So where do you want to go?”

“Seaside maybe,” Akechi’s eyes are fixed on the horizon. “That’s one of the comforts of living in Japan, isn’t it? There’s always some sort of shore nearby. And I’m tired of this city anyway.”

They stop by a supermarket to get things they might need for camping on a beach. He’s stubborn, as Akechi said – his mind still tries to make things seem more natural, conjuring shop assistants, and even lonely shoppers. It might be Akechi’s doing too. Without its true master, Maruki’s reality answers to their every whim. And yet through the cracks of the broken bubble, sadness seeps in like a cold wind. He doesn’t know what he’s so afraid of – it’s not like he’s dying. His other self is most likely asleep in the actual reality.

He’ll just go back where he really belongs.

Akira knows that if what Akechi’s saying is true, they can probably just leave without paying, but he still ignores Akechi’s scowl, as he opens his wallet to hand the money to the smiling cashier anyway. He keeps up the charade for his own sake, unable to resist the temptation. Akechi just rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath.

They walk through the parking lot, Akechi eyeing the plates of the abandoned cars as they go. He doesn’t share his thoughts with Akira, but he does seem to have a purpose, as he lets his hand brush against the passing vehicles.

“Looking for anything in particular?” Akira asks finally.

“I’m not sure,” Akechi admits. He stops in front of an old-looking minicar. “But this one still has keys in it.”

“Akechi…”

“Let’s go.”

He opens the door for Akira, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. A part of Akira thinks he can still go back – and that same part of him knows that if he does, he’ll most likely end up forgetting. He’d just have to welcome this reality with open arms, going through the motions, meeting with his friends, finishing school, helping around Leblanc.

Maybe then Akechi would forget as well. Maybe that’s all it takes to close their bubble once more. Maybe they’ll eventually stop feeling the cold blowing through the cracks, wrapping the fake reality around each other like a warm blanket.

Akechi’s lips form a tight line, reading Akira’s thoughts. At this point, their minds and will merge into one.

“Open the trunk for me first,” Akira says finally, lifting the bags that are still hanging heavily from his arms. “This car is small as it is already, I don’t feel like squeezing it all in at the front.”

A strange light shines in Akechi’s eyes as he watches Akira carefully like he’s expecting some sort of trap. They’re like two wild animals about to make their escape from their natural habitat. Akira takes a deep breath, imagining what it might feel like to fully be able to breathe. His chest rises and falls in its best attempt.

Akechi takes the bags from Akira’s grip and puts them inside the trunk.

He lets Akechi drive, his own eyes focused on the cityscape that all but escapes from his eyes as he keeps on looking. The streets are eerily empty, now that his imagination isn’t there to fill in the blanks. He wonders if the smiling cashier is still there at the supermarket, smiling at the void. He turns around to check if the city behind them is still intact, half-expecting a white wall of nothingness, but it looks more or less the same.

 _Does this world even have an end?_ Akechi said something similar, so maybe there’s some truth to it.

They drive in silence, none of them feeling up for a conversation, and not caring enough to turn on the radio. Akira briefly wonders if music still exists in this world. When he still felt alive, it was almost as if the music was there following him wherever he’d go. This world was nothing but white noise, drilling into his ears in an increasing volume. He closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He can hear it, his own breath and Akechi’s breath, a little heavier than normal.

“You’re not car sick, are you?” Akechi asks quietly, a gentle hint of worry present in his voice. Almost as if he was hoping that by keeping his voice down, he’d sound less concerned.

“No, it’s just too quiet. I’m not used to quiet.”

“I’ll try to turn on the radio.”

A soft jazz tune fills the car. Akira opens his eyes, meeting Akechi’s gaze. They both know he doesn’t need to mind the road in front of him.

“It’s live,” Akechi says. “Do you think the music comes from that world? From that place?”

For a moment, Akira can taste the sweet drink on his tongue. He can hear Akechi’s voice talking to him about something or other. He can see the singer, her body swaying to the music, her eyes locking with his just for a second as she continues her seductive song. Everything about the place is enchanting, pulling him in like a curse. The singer’s voice opens something inside Akira’s heart, or what he thinks might be his heart.

Echoes from the void – that’s all it was. Out of all things, only Akechi’s breath remains real.

“The other you sit down to order a drink,” Akechi narrates. “The lyrics reach out straight to his soul. The other you thinks of the other me. He’s a sentimental fool, after all. But the other me isn’t there. So the other you finishes his drink. He regrets the decision he made just for a moment. And then he leaves, burying the bar, and the song somewhere deep within his memory.”

“He will never know if he made the right choice,” Akira takes over. “He will never fully comprehend the consequences of his decision. He will never take a glimpse of what’s beneath the surface.”

“Do you think the other me is alive?” Akechi asks suddenly.

“Who knows if either of us is alive?” Akira sighs, his breath coming out in a puff of cold air inside the cold car. He no longer feels the temperature, though. “Maybe we’re wrong and this is just the afterlife.”

“Afterlife sucks.”

“No one ever said it wouldn’t.”

Akechi ponders over his words for a moment.

“It’s highly probable that we are still alive,” Akechi attempts to comfort him. “But for some reason, our wills decided to linger in this place.”

“Do you know why ghosts linger?”

“I never talked to one,” Akechi snorts. “Except you, of course.”

“It usually means there’s some unfinished business. Something they need to do before they move on.”

Akechi stops the car in the middle of a bridge.

“I need a short break,” he explains, getting out. They don’t need to be afraid of other cars – none will come. Akira follows after him. They’re already near the beach that Akechi chose as their destination. It’s getting dark and they’re between two islands, separated from each other by the rough sea. He wonders why the waves seem so high – they almost seem ready to tackle the bridge. He sees some dark clouds gather over them like a grim omen.

“Sorry, I’m afraid it’s me,” Akechi says, clearly thinking the same thing. “I guess I really do feel shitty about dying.”

Akira watches him wordlessly.

“When you’re done here, you’re going to forget about this place,” Akechi continues. “You’ll go back to your friends, waking up from whatever happened here like from a bad dream. But me… I don’t think I’ll be so lucky.”

“I thought you wanted to die,” Akira’s voice is tight in his throat. “I thought I made this decision for your sake. You didn’t seem to care about what happens to you.”

“I’m a human will,” Akechi sighs, staring at the sea below them. “I’m just a little selfish. The real me made his peace with what’s going to happen to him. You did make the right decision. But even he couldn’t say no to those extra hours with you. _He_ wanted to be with you just a little longer.”

Akira doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Do you think if I jump off, I will still die?” Akechi asks his hands tight on the railing. The water beneath them crashes against the bridge. Akechi climbs the railing with ease, and Akira doesn’t stop him. The snow continues falling from the sky, and a cold wind blows in his face, as he puts his arms around his body protectively.

“Akechi?”

“I won’t jump,” Akechi snorts and Akira wonders if it’s a lie. “I’m just taking in the view.”

“That’s not it,” Akira gives him a pleading look. “I’m cold.”

Akechi looks at him with surprise. He gracefully climbs off, pulling at the scarf around his neck. He wraps it around Akira instead, pulling him close.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t think it would affect you.”

He holds him in his arms, Akira’s own mind slowly coming back to its senses. He feels warm radiating off Akechi’s body, but it’s different this time. They both want it. He can hear the sea calm down below them.

“Let’s go back to the car,” Akechi decides and Akira nods. He knows he won’t feel cold anymore.

Akechi doesn’t protest when Akira asks to leave the window open. The radio stays silent, no matter how many times they try to adjust the frequency. The music stopped, clearly unable to cross the distance between the two worlds anymore. Akira isn’t bothered by silence anymore – the white noise is gone, his ears picking up on the gentle sound of waves from the outside. 

“I hate it,” Akira says suddenly. “Being controlled by my desire.”

“You’re not used to being controlled, are you?” Akechi acknowledges. “But coming from someone who’s been controlled his entire life, trust me, no one’s controlling you now. You just want things you were too selfless to ask for when you were more than just cognition. I told you I didn’t want you to take Maruki’s deal. And you listened, like the hero you are. Not just for my sake, you believed it would be the best thing to do for the others. Same as you thought that taking the hearts of criminals gives you the moral high ground."

"In the end, don’t you think it’s ironic? You thought taking away someone’s free will for the sake of your own sense of justice was the best thing to do. And then someone made you a very tempting proposition to have the same thing being done to you. And you wanted to accept it, didn’t you, Joker? But you knew it was wrong.”

“Can you call me by my first name?”

He could allow himself to be selfish, after all. Akechi smiles wryly. “We’re here, Akira.”

He stops the car again at a small beach, near the bridge where they made their stop before. It’s already dark, but they know they won’t have any problems setting up a camp. They take out the groceries and the camping set that they bought back at the supermarket. Akira briefly wonders if all of it was truly necessary – shopping, the car ride, their conversation. It all seemed like simply prolonging the inevitable.

“Thinking about it now won’t change anything,” Akechi warns.

They set up a tent on the beach, mostly out of lingering human habit than necessity. Akechi helps him gather tree branches for the bonfire, and they all should have been moist, but they give in to the fire easily, yet another perk of the circumstances they found themselves under. He enjoys sitting next to Akechi, while their food cooks over the fire, even when their bodies don’t touch.

“Do you feel the same way?” Akira asks. “Do you feel that same selfish desire I feel now?”

“You’re forgetting I’ve been a slave to my desire my entire life,” Akechi points out. “Revenge is a desire too.”

“I never realized I wanted these things from you,” Akira says, watching the fire. “I never stopped to consider my own feelings. When it hurt, I let it hurt. I was too busy trying to save others to notice. And then your death affected me in a way I couldn’t possibly predict, and Maruki somehow knew that and he used it to his advantage. You’re right, I wanted to say yes. I wanted you all to myself.”

They eat in silence, Akechi refusing to comment on Akira’s words.

“You’re sure you’re not just here because of my own desire?” He tries again. “Your glove was missing, I found it strange.”

“The glove is missing because you no longer need to fulfill our promise,” Akechi looks at his bare hands. “At least that’s what I think so.”

“You seem different than you were at Maruki’s reality.”

“Different how? Less murderous? Less violent?” Akechi snorts. “You saw what happened at the bridge. If I let my emotions loose, this world would collapse instantly.”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Akira asks. “I thought you didn’t want to be held back anymore.”

“I will let go when we’re done here,” Akechi looks into his eyes. “And I wanted this too, that’s why we’re still here. Maruki’s reality wasn’t just for you either.”

Akira has no reason to believe he’s lying. But he has no reason to smile either.

“I never meant to imprison you.”

“You are probably the only person to accept me for who I actually was,” Akechi sighs. “But with everything that happened, do you really think we could get a happy future together? Maruki knew that too. So we’re using this place to finish things once and for all.”

“I’m too tired to fight you.”

“I have other desires too,” Akechi admits finally. “All I wanted was for someone to love me, to accept me. Right now both of us are right what we need from each other – you want answers, I provide them. I want your acceptance, you’re willing.”

Akira tugs at Akechi’s scarf. “A reflection, like you said. So we’re just fakes after all.”

“We’ve always been fakes.” Akechi’s eyes focus on the sea. It remains calm for now. Akira wants to say something comforting, but he can’t think of anything that could fill the void between them.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get your answer,” he says instead. “You wanted to know where this world ends, but it seems like we’re stuck here instead.”

“I think it ends here,” Akechi turns to look at him. “Our world at least. You can let go now.”

Akira closes the distance between them to kiss him. He expects Akechi not to respond, but he actually pulls him closer, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. For a moment they’re just two warm bodies, needing something from each other that only the other can provide. He’s just a desire, he can’t think of all the words he wants to tell Akechi before they part, so he makes sure to put it all inside a kiss. And when he pulls, Akechi goes willingly, for once unafraid of taking things that might break him.

They go back into the tent, and Akira almost wishes he could have stayed outside to see the night sky.

“Do you want this?” Akechi asks. “We won’t have a lot of time once this happens.”

“When I kiss you it feels real,” Akira whispers against his lips. “When I hold you, I feel warm.”

“So you’re okay with this then? Being a fake.”

“What other choice do I have?”

They let their bodies touch just a bit too intimately. They let themselves be warm. In a world where everything is empty, there’s nothing Akira can’t take, so he accepts what he gets. There’s nothing Akira can do to stop the world from ruin, so he watches it collapse. There’s no one to save, so just this once, he lets himself be consumed.

When it’s all done, they don’t talk. Akira doesn’t need Akechi’s answers anymore. For once, he lets Akechi take from him, and Akechi takes, no longer bound by his desire. In this world, there’s no Shido. There’s no one here but them. There’s no reason to lie, and there’s no reason to regret it.

“I never knew what it was that I was missing,” Akechi says suddenly. “It sucks that I’ll just die not knowing.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“Even if I live, I can never have this. I’m too far gone.”

Akira is too tired to think.

“Come on,” Akechi pulls him, just like he did back in Leblanc. “I want to see the sunrise.”

The sky is clear with a tint of red already forming at the horizon. The stars are still there, bright and unchanging on the firmament, and it shouldn’t be possible for them to still be so visible, but Akira wished them to be there, and for once, he doesn’t need a wishing star in his pocket to make his dreams come true.

They lie down on the beach, the sand weirdly comforting, and like everything in this world, not at all cold to touch. They’re close to the sea, the waves reaching the soles of their shoes.

“I know you’re tired,” Akechi says, letting his body rest next to Akira’s. “But I have one question for you.”

Akira hums in response, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Do _you_ think we’re cognitions?”

“We can be more than that or less than that,” Akira says, not sure what he means by it himself. “I don’t think it matters anyway. Why are you asking now?”

“I don’t think it’s possible for any version of me to be happy.”

“And are you happy?”

“I am now.”

Sometimes happiness comes through the cracks too.

“Are you ready for me to let go?” Akechi asks.

“We could just fall asleep,” Akira whispers. “Maybe when we wake up, we’ll be whole again.”

Their consciousness slowly slips away as the sun begins to climb on the horizon. At that moment, they are connected, their scattered memories falling into each other, their hands reaching to hold on to an unspoken promise. Once the sun rises, everything, not just their eyes turn into gold, Akira’s laugh ringing louder than the waves. Akechi sees his own reflection in Akira’s face, as he closes his eyes letting the sun melt him away. His desires are no longer a stormy sea – he lets his happiness wrap them up in a warm cocoon of the sunrise.

The fake sky cracks open over their heads as their bodies slowly dissolve into waves.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm getting more and more self-indulgent in my stories, but then again, what is fanfiction if not self-indulgence? 
> 
> I never could bring myself to write fluff when it comes to this pair, and I thought they deserved some sort of closure, even if personally, I don't believe they'd meet again post-P5R. In any case, I hope you enjoyed this short story, I'd be happy with any feedback you can provide.
> 
> ___  
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/akihmorn) if you ever feel like talking to me!


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